


mojado

by Syntheticpalindromes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bottom!Javier, Javiarthur - Freeform, M/M, Post A Fine Night of Debauchery, Rimming, Saint Denis hotel rooms really see some stuff huh, everyone fancies arthur i can feel it i know this, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntheticpalindromes/pseuds/Syntheticpalindromes
Summary: “Hated how he spoke about you.” He grits out as Javier sinks his teeth into the stretch of his tanned neck, the tan from the months of Lemoyne sun, brightening and freckling him to a point where he almost feels as though he might be able to stand his reflection. He looksgood, he can comprehend that at least. Not as good as Javier ever looks but who ever would? “Had to stop myself from throttling him right there. Wanted to tear him apart.”Maybe this is foreplay. This declaration of hot, seething, anger at the injustices that Javier faces, as horrid as that sounds. Maybe it’s just the fact that someone gives a shit about him and his life as a Mexican man living in America, but Javier groans softly and butts his forehead into Arthur’s shoulder. Clinging onto him like the sodden wool of his guard outfit clings to his tepid skin.
Relationships: Javier Escuella/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	mojado

**Author's Note:**

> ive been thinking about this fic for literally months but i havent got round to writing it because i went back to work from furlough in july and then i had my massive charthur fic BUT that is all finished so...well...i am like the ultimate javier fan and therefore i do want arthur to love him as much as i do. so javiarthur was my first rdr2 ship before i caught the charthur brain worm. 
> 
> so here it is. my day off ridiculous javiarthur magnum opus. 
> 
> also...omg they were both bottoms. (kind of).

They’re likely to catch a chill with the way they are standing, sopping and dripping with water. A droplet of water winding its way down the ridges of Javier’s nose that Arthur notices almost immediately and it sets his pulse hammering underneath his skin. Like the beat of some unruly drum that he can’t quite quench with anything, no matter how hard he swallows and pushes it down. A lick of heat at the base of his spine that winds and curls its way up into him, pursued by a deep anger at the words of the man who led them to the watch. 

_I cannot believe they gave a…_

Arthur can’t bear to even think about the word he called Javier because it sets something off inside him that is ugly and wrenching, tumbling around in him like a beast with its claws out and ready. He hates when people speak to Javier the way that they do all too often. The way that they speak to _any_ of the gang who aren’t what they consider to be the _right kind of person_. 

But there they both stand, both drenched with water still and, now that Trelawny and Strauss have left, it’s just them. Staring at each other and panting. 

The droplet of water traversing the planes of Javier’s lips now and Arthur watches his tongue dip out of its confines to swipe the water away. It leaves a strange swath of saliva that shines in the moonlight, catching the interest of Arthur’s belly, which twists and if Javier were to continue he would probably become hard. Stood right there on the dock. 

Javier’s smile is so coy and curling that Arthur is still struck by the surprise of it by the time they’re pushing open the door of a hotel room in Saint Denis, careless and almost tumbling over each other. Uncaring for the fact that this is so dangerous it might as well be a deathwish. But stranger things happen in the city every day. Arthur has come across many of them, including a strange, pale feller, sucking the blood from someone’s neck. 

He thinks of this as Javier’s mouth attaches itself to his own neck and he groans damply, his clothes tight and waterlogged and he wants nothing more than to shuck them all off and feel if Javier’s skin is cool from the water or hot from the arousal. He hopes for both. Then perhaps they would be equal. All he ever wants. To feel as though he and his friends are equal. 

“Hated how he spoke about you.” He grits out as Javier sinks his teeth into the stretch of his tanned neck, the tan from the months of Lemoyne sun, brightening and freckling him to a point where he almost feels as though he might be able to stand his reflection. He looks good, he can comprehend that at least. Not as good as Javier ever looks but who ever would? “Had to stop myself from throttling him right there. Wanted to tear him apart.”

Maybe this is foreplay. This declaration of hot, seething, anger at the injustices that Javier faces, as horrid as that sounds. Maybe it’s just the fact that someone gives a shit about him and his life as a Mexican man living in America, but Javier groans softly and butts his forehead into Arthur’s shoulder. Clinging onto him like the sodden wool of his guard outfit clings to his tepid skin. 

“Don’t think about him. Think about me.” His words are entrancing; the way he talks, breathes into Arthur’s space. Makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up to attention, like a knife balancing on the tip of Javier’s finger when he wants to show off the fact he can handle his knives with such precision that he would never cut himself. But Arthur can feel that he does, as the hands that are marred with those tiny criss-crosses touch him and undress him. Peeling off his jacket and then untying his dark coloured ascot, prying it from his neck which throbs from the sensation of Javier’s teeth against it. He almost feels sick with the headiness it brings him. The rush of knowledge that Javier is going to be all for him tonight, when he knows that Javier could all too easily be anyone else's if he so wanted. 

So beautiful and courteous he is. 

He lets him undress him without a single word more, although his hand catches Javier’s wrist as soon as he reaches for his pants button, stood shirtless and shining in the lamplight, “You’re still wearin’ that silly hat. Let’s focus on you for a bit.” It’s lighthearted and cheery, and for a moment Javier almost looks taken aback. Shocked in some way. But then he smiles, and it splits across his face and Arthur remembers that he’s probably barely straddling thirty, and perhaps in another life he would be unmarred by scars and would be sat on a porch of his family’s home in Mexico, enjoying his late twenties and not with a gun in hand and knife between his teeth and against his throat. 

He kisses the smile on his face, hoping to take it into his own and it’s hard to not find it infectious when Javier smirks and then chuckles deeply. Tugging off the hat and tossing it somewhere to the side where it clatters against something and they both guffaw, though not too loud. Just in case someone outside were to wonder why two men were giggling in a hotel room together. “Perhaps you would like to help me a little. And perhaps we should move to the bed, swimming isn’t my best. My legs are a little tired.” The way Javier says it has a playful lilt to it, as though he were trying to insinuate something. Arthur cannot place what though. Mostly he just wants to scoop Javier into his arms and deposit him on the bed, watch him bounce with his eyes shut and mouth pink and beaming. 

It does end up occurring, the tossing of Javier onto the bed, however the outcome is less Javier bright and smiling and more Javier shuddering over the way the muscles of Arthur’s arms bunch and then stretch. Pulling and moving under that same tanned skin, the freckles dustling the tops of his forearms like pinpricks of umber; he wants to look on at all of his skin and find where the freckles do and don’t stretch. He wants to run his tongue along the lines and roads of Arthur’s body that nobody gets to see and wonder if the sun ever touches those places with its kisses, or if that’s just reserved for him. 

Legs are the next thing to go lax, after shoulders which rest against the head of the bed, Javier going pliant under Arthur’s gaze and it’s so surprising that they’ve never done this before. Never even kissed. Not even once. Even when John left and Arthur cried because he loved his brother so dearly that it quite genuinely broke his heart that he would leave them just like that. Javier had only been with the gang a year then, his English good (but not perfect) and he had touched Arthur’s shoulder and told him with wavering words that he tried his hardest to pluck from his brain that, “family would always come back together” as Arthur embarrassedly wiped away his tears and pulled the brim of his hat down lower. He had wanted so much to lean down and slide into Arthur’s lap, pull his hands away from his raw, red face and kiss him until he couldn’t remember why he was sad in the first place. 

Arthur joins him on the bed then, clawing at the button of his pants and he nods his head at Javier’s shirt, a silent request for him to pull away the ridiculous costume. Allow Arthur the sight of his bare chest, something he had seen many times before, just like they had seen each other nude before as they were always living in such close quarters. But, of course, this wasn’t the same. Javier’s chest rose and fell with the tangled anxiety of how different this was than seeing Arthur undress before he slid into his cot on his covered wagon. Usually he averted his eyes and heard sniggering from someone like Sean, which was rich, he didn’t know of any of the younger men, bar John, who didn’t look at Arthur and ache. Either to be him, or to be with him in the night. As stupid and brutish and bullheaded Arthur could be, he was so soft underneath it all. Soft and handsome, and when it was hot and he would brush his once long hair from his eyes and the perspiration would trickle down his back, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone at camp that didn’t have to quell some thoughts of being pushed down and taken. 

That same idea of being held down shoots through Javier’s groin and he pants openly. A single huge hitch of breath as he scrambles at the buttons of his shirt, not caring when he wrenches them away from the fabric with sweating fingers, the clammy air of the room hitting his still damp chest and Arthur surprises him by lowering his head and securing his mouth around his left breast immediately. Mouth sucking so hard that Javier has no idea where he is for a moment, just a great, white, blaring at the back of his brain and the throb of his cock beneath his trousers. Caught between a rock and a hard place of sensation. 

His hardness not going unnoticed, but still ignored, as Arthur goes obscenely across his chest to his other nipple. Trailing his tongue and completely unsure of what he’s doing, though not for lack of experience with men, but for lack of experience with someone he would consider a friend. It’s not like he’s sat down and asked Javier how he prefers to be intimate with men. If only, what a world that would be.

A world all too imaginable when Javier whines and moans, head thumping against the wood of the headboard as Arthur leaves his chest heaving and mottled pink with sucking kisses. The skin puffy and almost sore looking, so he brushes his thumb against it and watches as Javier insinuates his cock into the process a little more. “Arthur.” He sighs, his hand cupping Arthur’s face a little too tenderly, but Arthur allows it by turning his head and kisses his hot, sweaty palm. “Arthur, kiss me a little. I want you to kiss me.” He doesn’t say ‘please’ but it’s polite enough that Arthur does so, almost before he finishes asking. 

Their mouths slide together, a little unsure of each other, but they soon fall into where they need to fit. Javier’s mouth is cool and slick, enough so that Arthur wonders if he perhaps swallowed a bit too much water while they were swimming back to shore. The coolness seeps out into him though at the touching of their tongues, and he cups the back of Javier’s head as best he can where he is kneeling above him. Holding his head against his own and listening to the rhythmic in and out of Javier’s breathing through his nose, feeling the way his usually calm and skilled hands, that handle knives and guitars with the same reverance, squirm on the older man’s hips as though he’s struggling to know whether he wants to take control or not. Something that hadn’t quite crossed Arthur’s mind. 

He withdraws ever so slightly, looking down, almost in awe, at Javier’s shaking body and the bright spots of crimson that now adorn his chest. He hadn’t considered what exactly was going to be happening in the hotel room. Mostly he had just wanted to strip the costume off of Javier and push him so he was laid across a flat surface and look at him. 

The timidness hits him like a freight train, “How do you...Uh...Want to do this?” 

Javier’s eyes light up with mirth and Arthur watches the way his lips wriggle and contort as he tries to keep laughter at bay, “Oh, Arthur. You are always yourself.” 

Arthur has no idea what that means, but Javier continues, “Maybe, like you, I hadn’t thought I would get this far.” He licks his lips, “I would have been jealous of that man if he had been the only one for you to tear apart tonight, if you understand me?” As punctuation he let one of his thighs fall open, “I hope that would be alright, I know that you—” He laughs suddenly, a hand shooting to cover his mouth as though he finds the sound of himself rude, “—I’m sorry Arthur, I had heard a rumour.” 

Arthur’s nose crinkles up, “About what?” 

Javier’s unhelpful hand descends as he speaks, pushing down on the raised fabric of his crotch, as though he’s revelling in what he’s about to say, “That you take it, Arthur.” His accompanying grin was lavish but not cruel, “I heard that you were the one who enjoys lying down for men and letting them take care of you, Sweet.” The term of endearment sounds unusual, as though Javier is used to saying it in Spanish and it doesn’t quite fit in English.  
But it made Arthur’s cheeks burn nevertheless. 

His response is gruff, “Who’d you hear that off?” 

Javier shrugs, “Don’t remember. Just bored, camp gossip, I suppose. It is true though, right?” 

Arthur gazes around, at what Javier isn’t sure, then mumbles, “Yeah. S’pose so. It’s not always, but I like it.” 

“Mm. I’m not being cruel, Arthur. What do you like about it?” 

Arthur has the idea that maybe Javier is getting off on the idea of him being underneath a man. He clears his throat. 

“Just a change. Don’t want to think about money, or work, or providing for anyone. Almost consider it a vacation.” He can’t help himself from the small laugh that slips from his lips and Javier shares in it with him, nodding softly and caressing Arthur’s exposed right breast, a soothing motion that makes him lean in and kiss Javier’s mouth with more gentleness than it deserves. “Why?”

As Arthur’s mouth pulls of of his, Javier follows it, wanting the cloying taste back and as he speaks he almost pouts at the loss, “I just didn’t want to upset you if I asked you to fuck me.” 

The word _fuck_ does something to Arthur. He bends at the middle and his cock pulses, “N-No. Wouldn’t be upset at all.”

Javier looks pleased, “Oh, good.” The “d” of the word ending with a clipped, guttural sound as Arthur finally does Javier the service of pulling open his pants and finding just bare skin underneath, and he cannot wait until he pulls his own pants down and they both find that neither of them decided to wear any kind of underclothing beneath their costumes. For what reason, he doesn’t know, but it excites him to know that the entire time they had been on the boat Javier’s cock had only been beneath a single layer of fabric. 

The pants pull off easily from his, almost dainty in their shortness, legs and pool at the foot of the bed, leaving Javier in a pair of socks and nothing else. Something that makes Arthur snort in a pleased way, and he takes his time pulling them off and laying them to the side, his hand sliding over Javier’s calf and feeling the dark, almost curled hair that leads a careening path up his thighs and muddles its way to the centre of his belly and then back down again to where his erection stands between those sweet, short legs. Javier’s hands plastered to the bed sheets beside his hips as he lets Arthur’s eyes rake over him and his skin that still hasn't quite dried off just yet. Though where sea water stops and sweat begins, he does not know. Both taste the same as he sweeps his tongue across the planes of Javier’s skin, listening as he moans and begs for Arthur to take off the rest of his clothes and when they both are nude and in front of each other Javier all but yanks Arthur down so they can kiss again. 

Rubbing together at the middle and Arthur can hear himself talking something filthy into Javier’s ear, grasping a handful of black hair and pulling until he’s bowed at the back and the little tie that holds his hair back is snapping and the inkinesss of his hair tumbles out onto the pillow he’s now cushioned on. The words are probably just imitations of what men have said to Arthur when he was in the exact position Javier is in, but it also feels different. It feels natural to tell Javier that he’s going to fuck him so hard that he won’t want to leave the camp for days. That he’s going to hold him down by the throat and make him so happy and Javier believes it. It’s not even rough or terrifying when Arthur says such things, it’s almost endearing. The threat of it masking a strange tenderness beneath it, as though it’s just what Arthur thinks that Javier wants, and he does want it. But he wants Arthur to want it too. 

“You’re happy, yes?” He questions quietly. “You’re happy to do these things to me?” 

Arthur blinks, “A’course.” He goes very pink, “I told you, I ain’t always the one receiving.” He looks like a prince above him, fresh from the trip to the barber and the lingering smell of fancy cologne from that same barber tucked neatly like a string of pearls around his neck still, “You think I haven’t ever met a beautiful, talented, fascinating man before and felt like I want to push into him and take him ‘til he’s happy.” 

Javier grins, “I’m already happy, you think your prick will make me even happier?” 

Arthur rubs it against Javier’s and watches his eyelashes flutter, “I think maybe it could, darlin’.”

Javier all but purrs in answer, “Perhaps you’re right.” The purr turns into a gasp when Arthur then manhandles him onto his front and from behind him he hears him mumble, 

“When was your last bath?” 

Javier scoffs, “Before we left for the boat.” 

“Thought so.” Then licks across Javier’s hole and Javier has to catch himself before the crown of his head thumps swiftly into the headboard in front of him, steadying himself enough to rock his thin hips back and all that gets is Arthur grasping onto him so hard that it hurts quite a bit. Holding him in place as he does things to him with his tongue that, despite how adept as he is with charming people, he has never had done to him before and he’s surprised that Arthur would even have come across this practise at all. Something that he voices, breathily. The laughter he gets in return shudders through him from behind and he sucks in a huge breath because, _oh_ , that feels rather nice. 

“I ain’t dim, Javier. Might be buffoon, but I’ve been on this planet almost four decades. You learn.” He says it so casually, pausing in between sentences to run his tongue over Javier and when he finishes with the whole bit he wastes no time in licking into Javier with such fervour that all he can do is scrunch his shaking fingers into the sheets and let him. He can’t even describe the sensation it gives him, but it’s hot and wet and he wonders if this is a lead up to Arthur’s cock sliding into him. He’s taken enough men to be acquainted with the feeling of it, but his muffled voice still trembles slightly as he asks, 

“Will this be enough, Arthur?” 

Arthur stops what he’s doing, smoothing his thumb across Javier’s shining hole, “You don’t think that I would let this happen with only _spit_ , would’ya?” 

Javier feels embarrassed all of a sudden, “Well. Uh. I’m not too sure.” 

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever do that.” Arthur soothes, his breath fanning onto Javier’s behind as he speaks and it’s part ways funny and part ways knee tremblingly sweet. Because he believes that entirely, he believes that Arthur would never think to be unkind to him, even when it came to him lying with him. 

“Okay.” Is all he says in response. 

Arthur follows it up quickly with, “Don’t laugh at me now but, I must admit, I do tend to carry around...Something. You know.” 

He does laugh, but it’s not malicious in any way, and it soon fades away when Arthur leaves the bed and then returns a moment later, the bed dipping. His mouth back on him in an instant and this is something Javier could get quite used to receiving, the loving attention of Arthur’s tongue as it swipes across his hole and dips into him. The noises are obscene and damp and they crescendo when his tongue is replaced by Arthur’s finger and it curls up into him, finding no resistance which Javier is proud of. He knows this. He knows how to do this and he knows how to make himself beautiful for men as they do it to him. But it’s a comfort to know that he doesn’t have to put on a show for Arthur, something in the other man’s eyes when he looks at him at camp that has him inclined to think that Arthur thinks he's wonderful even when he looks his worst in the morning before he’s had time to fix himself up. 

He pulls on that, “Do I take it well, Arthur?” His voice alights when he says the other man’s name, trying to dredge emotion out of the older man as he delights at the way it sounds in his mouth. 

Arthur grunts and Javier likes to imagine that his cock is leaking, “Yes. So well.” He smooths his free hand over Javier’s back, “I bet I could even just—” Javier feels a second finger being pushed into him and he sighs at the slight stretch of it, rolling his hips into it and enjoying the way the feeling of being filled snuck up until his stomach and sets a warmth aglow there. He’s glad that Arthur knows the joy of doing this, so he knows that the noises that leave him are earnest and genuine. That he is loving it and through that, loving Arthur, in a way. 

The third finger finds its way in and the time for careful and sweet adulations of Arthur is seemingly over, and Javier finds himself gripping at the bed with much more force than before as Arthur pushes his fingers in hard and fast. Making Javier snuffle out breathy moans and go pliant underneath him, his cock so wet that if he were to touch it now then he would immediately come, and he didn’t want that. He wants the slick slide of Arthur inside him when he gets himself off. Wants Arthur to feel the way he’d go hot and pulsing around him on the inside as he came. 

It leaves him feeling bereft when Arthur slips his fingers out of him, his hole feeling cold and aching for something else and something more, something that remedies itself when he feels Arthur press the head of his cock against him. Sizing up Javier and he does exactly the same, mouth wide and the pillow beneath him is slightly damp because he can’t quite keep his saliva in his mouth. Starving for Arthur to make him feel good. Make him feel even better than he already feels. 

To feel seen, and what a sight he must be. He almost wishes he could see himself through Arthur’s eyes, and once more he asks for him to describe it. 

Arthur chuckles, voice gravelly and Javier hopes to God that this isn’t the last time they find each other like this because he wants Arthur to fuck him while he can lie there on his back and watch the smiles as they slip across his stupid, wonderful, face. Wants to see Arthur above him in every season, wants to see his summer freckles and his winter pink nose as he rocks into him and makes him spill on his belly. 

He hopes that Arthur can’t tell how smitten he is only just realising he is. 

“You’re pretty. Well, no, not just pretty. You’re a fine man. Fine thighs which I can see shakin’.” Arthur’s hot hand touches the back of them and Javier feels the tips of the three damp fingers dip back into him, “I ain’t really ever let myself think about you to this degree, so it’s...it’s a lot. To have you here in front of me. M’almost upset that I couldn’t spend more time putting my mouth on you.” He sighs as though he really is upset and Javier says sweetly, 

“You could...Some more. If you wanted.” 

He can hear the lust in Arthur’s voice as he replies, “I fear if I don’t have you right now I might die.” Which makes Javier laugh and he stretches himself out, getting comfy against the bed, settling in for the night, so to speak. 

“Go on then.” He cajoles, voice syruppy and it catches around the edges as Arthur pushes into him, slowly slowly, until the head of his cock pops into him and Javier’s mouth hangs open a little, breathing hard through his nose and he pushes back against him. Urging Arthur in further with a cant of his hips. Not happy to settle for such a meager offering, not until he’s in up to the base and he can feel the curls of Arthur’s hair against him. But for all his bluster abotu fucking him hard, Arthur goes mercifully, perhaps holding himself back and when his hips settle against Javier’s ass they both take a breath. 

His hands are hard and grasping on Javier’s hips and Javier can’t remember the last time someone took him like this, in this position, but he feels no hollowness leaking into his chest at the impersonal nature of it. No sadness at the idea that he knows nothing of the man behind him, because he knows Arthur all too well. He knows that he kills and steals, but he also sits in meadows and draws flowers, and looks after Jack and it settles him. The tension in his shoulders fades away and Arthur seems to notice as his hand brushes across his shoulder blades, “You alright?” He sounds strained, like he’s holding himself back from the need to push right over the edge. 

“Yes.” Javier grunts, struggling into position as he tucks himself up onto his knees and keeps his face buried in the pillows, it’s an effort after a long night, but he can hear the pleased noise Arthur makes as he does. Following the motion with his own body and stroking at the jutting curve of Javier’s asscheek, and for a moment he thinks that perhaps Arthur will deliver a blow there, but he doesn’t. Simply caresses him and dots a single finger on his skin. Like he wishes he could kiss the spot, but couldn’t reach it to do so. It makes Javier’s stomach tumble and turn within him, and now he just wants to be fucked so he can forget how brilliant Arthur is. 

“Please, Arthur. Come on.” He whines, pushing back hard enough that Arthur lets out a little ‘ _oof_ ’ noise. 

Arthur makes good on his promise from earlier on from that point onward. 

He forgets how to breathe properly as he pushes himself into Javier so hard that if he’s seeing stars behind his eyes then he wonders what Javier is feeling, but judging by the way he angles his hips and arches his back, he’s feeling exactly the same. The pillow is a mood and sound dampener though, all but working as a gag to stifle the sounds that Javier is making, and he isn’t stopping himself in those noises at all. But Arthur wants nothing more than to hear them properly, so he leans down and presses his mouth to Javier’s ear, “Get up. Up on your hands and knees, I wanna hear you.” 

Javier’s returning groan is bleated into the pillow and he shuffles around a little before lamenting, “I can’t. I can’t!” Arthur’s cock rendering him devoid of all motor skills and it doesn’t let up on him even as Arthur’s strong arms yank him up and into position. Rearranging him until he’s happy and though he slips out of him, making Javier curse, he quickly pushes back in and watches smugly as Javier’s four limbs shudder as they try their hardest to keep him aloft. 

He looks so small below him. Not that Arthur considers himself huge, his muscle prone to bunching in his arms and thighs and the rest of him remains soft and his stomach has always been on the rounder side. Neither is Javier particularly feminine or petite, but he seems tiny beneath him. His limbs lithe and torso compact as Arthur leers over him and watches his cock push and pull in and out of him. It’s not a power play in that sense though, the notion of being above and larger than Javier serves no purpose other than where they find themselves in bed, and Arthur is sure that Javier would think exactly the same if he were in his position. But he likes it, he likes that beneath the bravado and the knives there is a young man who feels safe enough to make himself small. 

Although, Arthur wants to make him feel large and powerful in their coming together too. 

So he slides a hand underneath Javier and pulls him up until they are both kneeling up on the bed, and although the position is a little more awkward on their movements, Javier beams. Arthur knows he does, because he presses his fingers against and into his mouth as his lips spread into a smile. Letting Javier suck on the digits and groan around them as he fucks him just on this side of too rough, holding the younger man against him and kissing into the soft skin behind his ear. Murmuring things that he knows he won’t bring up again, because they’re far too intimate and tender and make Javier choke on his fingers in surprise, so he pulls them out of his mouth and apologises by touching his erection where it’s stuck out proudly at his middle. 

Stroking Javier tight but slow, a complete contrast to his fast and borderline sloppy thrusts into him and he marvels at his own resolve because he was sure he would have come by now. Javier is so tight and almost boiling inside, but that perhaps could just be his own imagination. He feels perfect though, and he tries to conjure a time when sex has felt better but he can’t quite, and he wonders if that will ever cause a problem as it rears its head in the future. Either way, for now, all he can think and feel and smell is Javier. His face tucked into his neck and he inhales deeply. He smells like sweat and dirt and the perfumed oil he uses on his hair and skin. It makes his mouth water and his hips grow even sloppier. 

Javier notices immediately, his hand joining Arthur’s on his cock and he all but bats Arthur away, who grumbles, “I wanna be the one to get you off.” 

To which Javier rolls his eyes (though, of course, Arthur cannot see that) and placates him with, “Fuck me properly then.” 

Arthur comes first, a great, wet rush of it leaving him butting his forehead into Javier’s shoulder and as he moans low and deep, and Javier can feel it pulsing out into him. Wetting his insides and though Arthur keeps thrusting gently, fucking the wetness into him, he has to push him to leave him after a moment. His own hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock because he doesn’t want to come just yet and he tries not to sound too disappointed as he murmurs, “I would have liked you to feel me when I went tight around you.” 

The front of Arthur’s hair is stuck up and Javier tends to it sweetly as he’s pushed back against the bed and Arthur kisses him, “Let me take care of you then, sweetheart.” Javier preening at the term of endearment, his erection twitching as Arthur lays him back and allows Javier to throw a leg over his hip as he pushes his fingers into him. Feeling his own release trickle over his fingers and hand and wrist, easing the press of his two fingers, though it’s not even a moment before he’s fucking him so hard with them that Javier is clucking his tongue inside his mouth and then sighing low and happy in the back of his throat. 

Arthur kisses him through him coming across both their hands and there’s a long, black moment where Javier can’t quite remember where he is. But then, Arthur’s hands are on him and are tugging him into a position on a bed where he might be comfortable, prying open his thighs and wiping him with something or other, making him embarrassed as he cleans up the mess behind him and he nudges him off when it becomes indulgent. Arthur joins him another moment later and when he falls onto the bed he looks absolutely exhausted. 

“You didn't have to immediately get up just to clean me up, you know.” Javier provides. 

Arthur sniggers, “Weren’t _right away_. You fall asleep for a moment there? What a sweet, tired thing.” The teasing makes Javier punch Arthur’s thigh playfully and Arthur howls with laughter, pushing Javier away from him, “I’m just saying! You seemed...Worn out.” His grin large and Javier feels foolish the second he pulls away from the kiss he gives Arthur to silence the smirk. 

Strangely, Arthur pulls him right back into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i feel like i need to work on how i....characterise these two because some of this feels Not Right to me but!! it's just a silly little smut thing so i'm not too worried. might write some more some time because i truly do worship at the feet of mr escuella like i literally have a shrine to him in my room :/// 
> 
> but aS always kudos and comments are much appreciated and loved 
> 
> and u can find me here
> 
> twitter: cowboywav  
> tumblr: cowboyism


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